


Forever isn't Enough

by kissmetommy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean-Centric, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Sam-Centric, Soulmates Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmetommy/pseuds/kissmetommy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He crawls into the bed, holding himself. He falls asleep thinking about the day, thinking about the way it felt to touch his brother’s skin. Thinking about how he felt when he saw his brother, broken, on the ground. How he was as scared as he has ever been. How he is still so scared to lose him now, now that he is going away to college. And he's so scared that he might not be able to see his brother all the time like he has been his whole life. Scared that this is going to change everything. Truth is, everything has already changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hecallsmetommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecallsmetommy/gifts).



March 13th, 2001 

Sam clutched the letter close to his chest, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He had never felt so happy before. The paper inside was painted with the words that would change Sam’s life forever. Sam had gotten into Stanford, he finally had the chance to get away. He wouldn’t have to hide a gun under his pillow anymore, wouldn't have to put salt on his windowsills anytime he heard a weird sound. It's dark out, the only light coming from the candle Sam has lit on the windowsill. He presses his mouth to the letter as if kissing it goodbye. He sets it down on his bedside table, hiding under one of his math books. Dean can’t see it, this goodbye cannot end in a screaming match and tears. Not from his father and not from his brother. No, he’ll have to figure out a different way to do this. One that doesn't end in total solitude.  
Sam hears the front door of their motel opening, his heart jumps in his chest and he quickly makes sure that the letter is well hidden beneath his book. Dean opens the door to see a very suspicious Sam sitting rigidly on his bed. Dean raises his eyebrows, his frowning mouth turning into a wide grin.  
“What have you been doing in here Sammy?” Dean questions, his old bag strung over his shoulder. Sam can smell the beer radiating off of his skin. Alcohol has become a piece of his brother’s regular scent. Sam shakes his head, smirking slightly, he knows what his brother is implying.  
“Does sex always have to be on your mind?” Sam asks his older brother, crossing his legs on his bed, he grabs a book from under his bed and pretends to read it. Dean sits on his bed, facing him.  
“No, but it is. Just the way I am Sam.” He replies, running a hand through his perfect hair. Something in Sam wakes up, a new feeling deep inside of his heart. He takes a deep breath, ignoring it. When Sam doesn't respond Dean becomes concerned, his brother never stops talking. He always has a new topic of the day, something about physics or what is going on in the world and usually it annoys Dean to no end, but today? Today, Dean was looking forward to that rambling, looking forward to something normal.  
“Whats wrong with you brother?” Dean leans forward on his bed, resting his chin in his hands. He watches his brother intently like he always does. Studying the way his eyes flicker over the words on the pages. He watches Sam’s long fingers caress the pages of his favorite book. It only takes a few moments before Dean decides to jump over onto his little brother's bed. He rests his head on his shoulder, something they used to do when they were little. But he needs this now, he needs his brother after what happened.  
“Sammy, we need to talk.” Dean mumbles, his breathing uneasy and his heart thumping in his chest. He had been dreading talking about this with Sammy for a while now. His brother doesn't respond again, Dean gets frustrated.  
“Sam!” The older brother yelps, shoving the book Sam is holding away from his face. Sam scowls at his older brother, trying to pick up the book and disappear into it again. Dean just knocks it down again, this time keeping tightly in his hands, not letting go. Sam turns to face his brother, a look of defeat evident on his face. He shrugs, crossing his arms, but he doesn't say anything.  
“Dad says we have to go, we got a job up in Kansas.” Dean knows how hard this is for his brother, uprooting the life he was just barely getting to know and creating a new one. Sam just nods, his face the same as it was a second ago.  
“Dude, whats up with you? You look like you ate a lemon.” Dean continues, his head no longer on his brother's shoulder but raised, looking into his eyes. Sam sighed, looking at his brother straight in the eyes for the first time since he entered the room.  
“I need to tell you something, Dean.” He whispers, playing with his fingers, a nervous habit that he had just gotten into, like Dean with his drinking. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for his brother to say something else.  
“I-well, awhile ago, I was bored and I might have applied to Stanford. I just got this letter, I got in. Now, I don't have to go. I don't even want to go. It was just a thing. You know?” Sam tells Dean in one breath, grabbing the letter from under his book. Dean takes it from his hands, looking at it like it was one of the monsters that they hunt.  
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Dean asks, a strong look of betrayal of playing on his face. Sam shakes his head, grabbing the letter from Deans hands, and clutching the paper back to his chest.  
“I was scared, and I didn't think that they would want me there. I mean who would?” Sam tries to make Dean laugh but it just makes it worse. The look of anger on his face turns to one of sadness and guilt.  
“You don't have to be scared of me, dad maybe. But me? No, I will always be there for you Sam.” Dean reaches out, placing his hands over Sammy’s, even though his little brother’s hand are bigger than his now.  
“What are you even talking about Dean?” Sam asks, getting up from the bed and beginning to pace around the room. Dean sits forward on Sam’s bed, watching him retrace his steps on the old carpet.  
“I'm always going to be there for you, brother. No matter what. I’ll come visit you, we can hunt on the weekends, on the breaks. Dad and you might fight about this, but he’ll come around. I’ll talk to him, make him understand.” Dean stutters, gripping at the words that are spilling out of his mouth. He stands up, taking a couple strides towards his brother. Sam stays silent but his footsteps stop, he slowly turns to face his brother.  
“Okay, okay. I believe that you are going to be there for me. But, I don't want this. I don't want this life. I don't want to stay up all night studying and then kill monsters on the weekend when I could be making friends. I don't want to be a freak anymore.” Sam says, staring at the floor, his hands clenched by his side. He prepares himself for the flurry of words that are sure to fire from Dean’s mouth.  
“You don't want to be in this life anymore? I don't understand, you were born into this, this is who you are!” He’s not quite yelling yet, but his veins are starting to erupt from his neck and his face is slowly growing pink. Sam looks up slowly and into the watery eyes of his older brother.  
“It doesn't have to be who I am.” Sam struggles, running a hand through his long hair. When Dean looks up, he looks heart broken. He steps forward, so close to his little brother that he can feel Sam’s breath on his neck. Dean raises a hand to his brother’s face, placing it there softly.  
“You cant pretend? Not even for me?” Dean whispers, a lone tear rolling down his cheek and onto his collared shirt. Sam just shakes his head, quickly, he looks down at his feet, then up at his brother again. He takes a deep breath, placing his hand over his brothers. It cover it completely, Sam is bigger in almost every way now.  
“No, no I cant.” Sam says, closing his eyes so he doesn't have to look at his brother, look at the way his brother is looking at him. The warmth of Dean’s hand leaves the side of his face, and soon his brother leaves too. Sam just stands there, his eyes closed. The light from the candles leaving shadows on his face. He doesn't know how long he stand there. Could have been hours, felt like days. Sam open his eyes when he hears the front door slam. All of a sudden a wave of emotions that he had been keeping inside falls out of him. He falls to the ground, sobs wracking his body. His fists his the floor. Once, twice, three times. He screams loudly, his skin breaking, blood pouring down his arms. Sam keeps hitting the floor, tears keep falling from his eyes.  
Dean walks in a few hours later, its early in the morning, so early that it’s still dark out, and no one is walking around on the street. Sam is lying on the ground, and what looks like blood surrounds him. He looks dead, which makes Dean’s heart jump about a thousand feet up in the air before landing back down in his throat. He rushes to his little brother’s side, cursing all the times that Sam has found his older brother passed out exactly like this. He wonders if Sam felt how Dean feel now. He reminds himself to clean up his act, for his brother.  
Dean shakes his brother, his hands resting on both sides of the 18-year-olds face. His mind flickers back to before, when his hand was placed exactly like this. When they were standing so close. He shakes his head, trying to focus on the problem in front of him. His hands fall to his brothers chest, searching desperately for a heart beat. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escapes from his lungs when he finds his brothers pulse radiating from his chest.  
Dean shakes him a few more times, not going as far as to slap him awake. Sam’s eyes flutter open quickly, and his mouth open to such in more air. Dean’s eyes widen, he clutches at the fabric of his brothers shirt, pulling him closer to his own body.  
“What the hell were you thinking? What did you do?” Dean says sternly, watching the way his brothers eyelids droop. His little brother looks up at him, broken and sad.  
“You left me, you left me and you said you wouldn’t. I got angry. You did this all the time, why cant I?” Sam questions his brother, making sure to keep his hands behind his back. He didn’t need his brother fussing over him now.  
“I'm sorry Sammy, there is just too much going on. I mean we are moving, something happened with dad, and now you are going to leave me. I mean-I, I could have handled it better. So, for that, you know.” Dean says, his hands still clutching at Sam’s shirt, their faces only inches apart. It reminds Sam of last night, them being so close that he could feel Dean’s body heat, almost as if they were one. And now, here they were, and all Sam wanted to do was be in his brothers arms. For him to care for him, like he did when he was badly hurt.  
“I know.” Sam nods, knowing what his brother means by those words. They always say that when they need the other to remember. To remember that they love each other. Sam takes his hands from behind his back and shows them to his brother. Dean’s mouth falls open, he lets go of Sam’s shirt and holds Sam’s wrists. He’s careful not to touch the broken skin.  
“Let’s get you taken care of, yeah?” Dean nods, helping his brother stand up. The rise together, almost in harmony. Sam looks down at their hands. He gulps, taking a moment to process everything that is happening. Dean leads him over to his bed, waiting until he's sitting down before he lets go of his hands.  
“I’m going to go get the kit, I'll be right back okay?” Dean says, making sure that his brother understands that he is not leaving him again. Sam nods, biting his lip as he watches Dean exit their room. On the other side of the door Dean collapses, his back leaning against the wall and his head in his hands. He doesn't let himself cry, not even a tear, he cant let Sam see him this way. Back in their room Sam is shaking, he leans back on the bead, staring at the white ceiling. A million thoughts run through his head, a million scenarios that explain what the fuck is going on with him. A million scenarios that explain what the fuck is going on with him and Dean.  
Dean enters, the kit in hand, he smiles calmly, telling himself that it will be okay. That everything is okay and nothing have changed. But something has, he isn't sure what or how or why but he can feel it deep in his bones, and he knows Sam can too. Sam is leaning back on the bed, his face turned towards the ceiling. There’s something so simply beautiful about this picture, and Dean wishes he had a camera to take a picture of it.  
“Got it.” He says, approaching his brother and setting the kit on the bed. Sam sits up, scooting closer to the kit and closer to his brother. Dean opens the box, getting out all the needed materials. He gets up, walking towards the bathroom and getting a damp paper towel.  
“I can get some of the blood off your arms but you are going to need to wash these clothes.” Dean informs him as he drags the wet towel over her hand, he turns Sam’s arm around, leading the wash cloths over his skin. Sam doesn't look at Dean, it feels weird. Weirdly good, he just watches the way he's touching his arm, and the way he's holding him.  
Once Dean is done cleaning the blood off of most of his skin, he takes out the gauze, wrapping it around his brother’s knuckles, and then tape over that. He holds his brother’s hand on his own for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. He brings Sam’s hand up close to his mouth, hesitating for a moment before resting his cracked lips onto his brothers skin. It’s brief and soft, but Sam can feel that stirring in his stomach. Dean glances up at his brother, before dropping their hands and picking up the kit. He takes it and walks out of the room, no words falling past his lips. Sam looks down at his feet, standing up and walking over to his own bed. He strips off his jeans and his shirt, leaving him in his briefs. Flopping down on his bed, he pulls the covers over himself and sighs deeply. He closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to find him.  
Dean walks back into the room a few minutes later, he rushes to his bed, not looking at his brother pretending to sleep on the other bed. Dean sits down, he runs his hands up and down his legs, trying to warm up. These places never have good heat, and the blankets don't help much. When they were little they would cuddle up in the same bed, a web of limbs and sheets all tangled up. But they aren't little anymore and they probably wont even fit in the same bed. Sam’s legs are too long now. Dean takes off his pants and shirt, replacing them with black sweatpants. He crawls into the bed, holding himself. He falls asleep thinking about the day, thinking about the way it felt to touch his brother’s skin. Thinking about how he felt when he saw his brother, broken, on the ground. How he was as scared as he has ever been. How he is still so scared to lose him now, now that he is going away to college. And he's so scared that he might not be able to see his brother all the time like he has been his whole life. Scared that this is going to change everything. Truth is, everything has already changed.


	2. Thank You

March 20th 2001  
A week later and things are still as tense as they left them. They’ve talked, but only simple words and fragile sentences that fill up the uncomfortable silence. John has no idea what's going on, he's still in California working on some vampire den job. He’s only called every couple days to check in on everything. None of the boys spoke about Stanford, not even to each other.   
They’re sitting down for lunch, a diner that they have been to every day since they got here. The waitress’ know them by name, well their fake names. They’re still brothers here and the people who own the place like to stop by their table and talk about girls. What girls they like, if they are dating anyone. Dean rambles on about all the hot babes he had seen that day, Sam just shakes his head. No one ever really catches his eye. He’s only had one girlfriend, about two years ago and it only lasted for a couple weeks. That's how he lost his most precious virginity.   
“So, how have you been?” Dean asks, using his mouth to play with the straw in his Coke. Sam watches his, his eyes squinted. The waitress drops off their plates, a burger for Dean and a chicken salad for Sam, which of course won an eye roll from Dean. Sam began to spoke, then stopped. How was he? He didn’t even know how to answer that question himself.   
“I’m alright, good.” Sam nods, taking a bite of his salad. Dean stays quite, he bites his lip before he takes another sip. Dean can feel Sam’s foot under the table, pressing against his. He makes himself look interested in his salad like he hasn't noticed. Sam places his foot on top of his brother’s, a small smile appearing on his face. Dean ignores it still, taking more bites of his burger and more sips of his coke.   
“Dean!” Sam says loudly, chuckling. He kicks Dean in the shin, trying to shock him out of his funk. Dean scowls at him, yelping only slightly. Dean glares at him, kicking him back until they are in the back of the Impala, John driving them to an unknown destination, telling them to stop fighting. They would just laugh, both being so young, so innocent and unknowing to the things that happened out there in the real world.   
They stop kicking each other for a moment, drop their forks and stare at each other. Sam furrows his eyebrows, Dean bites his lip. They are interrupted by the waitress, who places the check on the table and asks them if they need anything. Sam shakes his head, Dean mouths the word no. She sighs and turns around, probably thinking that they are ungrateful dicks. Sam is the first to say something, he opens his mouth a couple times, looking down at his lap, probably playing with his fingers.   
“I’m-you know.” He says, not looking up at his brothers. He tugs at his fingers, his middle finger cracks.   
“I know, me too.” Dean answers, he grimaces when Sam cracks his finger, he's always hated it when he did that. It was a nervous habit and he wasn't sure when or from who he picked that up. He just started doing it one day and he hasn't stopped since. A smile on Sam’s face, that one he only has for his brother and Dean gives him his special brother smile right back at him. And suddenly it's like everything is back to normal, there is no weirdness or anger between them. They’re just brothers again and it feels like it did before the fight, and before that soft kiss. Not that neither of them is thinking about it because they are. Sam is still thinking about how rough Dean lips felt, and how they would feel in other places. Dean is thinking about how soft Sam’s skin is and if it felt that soft in other places too. But they didn’t talk about it, both of them thinking that the other would never want to talk about it.   
“What are you doing today, anything fun?” Dean asks, finishing off his burger and placing one of their many credit cards in the check. The waitress comes by to pick it up, not even bothering to ask how they are, they wouldn't answer her anyway.   
“Nothing, you?” Sam asks, secretly hoping that he would say nothing too. That way they could spend the day together like they used to. Dean shakes his head, smiling. He looks up at him, something close to a glint appears in his eye that Sam hasn't seen in years, not since he started hunting with John. Something happens to you after that, something that Sam went through too, it's like a darkness. Something even worse happens after your first kill.   
“Let’s do something fun, yeah? Like old times.” Dean suggests, the waitress comes by and gives them the credit card, Dean takes it and slips it inside of his pocket.   
“Yeah, I’d love that.” Sam says, nodding slowly. Dean smiles, starting to get up from the table, Sam gets up too. They stop for a moment when they get outside, it's like a pause in time. Dean turns to face his brother, as Sam turns to face him. They stare at each other no words passing their lips. In this moment, anything could happen and it's almost like they've made a pact to never speak about it again. Dean approaches his little brother, stopping a couple inches away. Sam looks at his feet, his ears turning red. Something in Dean snaps and he lunges forward, Sam flinches away thinking that his brother is trying to punch him. Instead, Dean pulls him in for a hug.   
“Promise me one thing, okay little brother?” He says, neck buried inside of his brothers, Sam slowly places his arms around Dean. He nods.   
“Promise me that we will never loose touch if you ever leave. Even when one of us dies. Promise me that we will find our ways back to each other.” Dean says this all in one breath like he has been holding it in for years. Sam nods frantically.   
“I promise.” The younger one says, knowing that if it truly does come to it, he would do anything, anything to bring his brother back from death. Dean clears his throat, backing away from Sam. The moment ends. Sam pulls on his fingers.   
“So, what do you want to do?” Sam questions, shoving his hands in his pockets so he doesn't keep cracking his knuckles. Dean and his father have told him many urban legends about what that can do to your joints. And if Sam was anything, he was superstitious.   
“We could go to the strip club!” Dean gleefully suggests, Sam rolls his eyes, knowing that he would never be let in. He was too skinny and had no hair on his face.   
“Do you really think that they would let me in? Come one Dean, think of something useful. Like, maybe we could go to the library and do some research for a case. Help dad out a little.” Sam suggests, they move away from the entrance of the dinner, so not to block anyone’s way.   
“You know, that sounds like lodes of fun, but since when have you been interested in helping dad?” Dean says the first part sarcastically and the second part with growing suspicion. Is Sam really thinking of leaving?  
“Since he’s going to kill me when I tell him about Stanford.” Sam laughs, a hand running through his hair. Every time Sam even talks about leaving Dean for some school, his rage rises about 80%. But he has decided that he is going to be there for his brother. That is the promise he made to him a week ago.   
“Right, Stanford,” Dean replies, his tongue running over his chapped bottom lip. Sam stands their awkwardly, watching his brother’s expression change.   
“How about we go home, have a couple of beers and watch something,” Sam suggests, knowing that his brother could never turn away beer and TV. Dean tries to show his brother a smile but desperately fails.   
“Yeah, that sounds like fun.” He says. They start walking to the car, even though things are back to normal, Sam feel like he is walking on ice. Whenever he talks about going away to college, and escaping everything, Dean tenses up and he stops talking. Sam decides that tonight, he and Dean will have a proper conversation about all this, and he will tell him that he has decided to go. He hopes that his brother will be happy for him, that he will stand by his side when he tells John. But knowing Dean, that probably won't happen very quickly. No, he's going to need time to cool off and think things over. Meaning, he is going to have to put off telling their dad. Because there is no way in hell that he is going to tell him alone.   
They get in the car, like always Sam in the passenger and Dean is the driver, which means that Sam shuts his pie-hole while Dean blasts his music. But this time, Dean doesn't, instead he puts on ‘shit” also known as the music that Sam likes to listen to. Sam almost says something, almost makes a joke, but at the last moment decides against it. Instead, he throws him a funny look and calls it. Dean just sticks his tongue out back at him. Real mature.   
They arrive back at the motel in about fifteen minutes. Sam has his head rested on the window, eyes almost shut and Dean has begun to tap his fingers on the steering wheel. Sam reminds himself to bring that up later when Dean is trashing his music taste. They get out, in sync, like they have been all these years. Dean hands his keys to Sam, knowing that this way, he won't loose them. Once they get inside, Dean heads straight for the mini kitchen, never mind the fact that they had just come from lunch. He grabs onto some Lay’s chips and two beers, then crawls onto the couch. Sam sits next to him, his long legs resting on the table in front of them. Dean hands Sam the other beer, already open and grabs the remote.   
“So, what shall we watch?” Dean asks, one hand in the bag of chips and the other one, holding the remote and turning on the TV. Sam shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. Dean rolls his eyes, Sam has never been one to watch TV, and he's always been one of those people that let other people just do what they want. The only exception is John, and, well Dean. Dean decides on watching re-runs of Criminal Minds, which for some reason always scared him. Maybe it was because these were actual humans that did these things, not monsters or people that are possessed. But actual human beings that killed people and hurt ones that they loved. Dean glanced over at his brother, he would never, ever hurt him. Sam looked over at his brother, who was staring at him.   
“What are you looking at freak?” Sam asks, pushing him faraway with his foot. Dean glares at him, a mouth full of chips, and probably beer in there somewhere too.   
“Only your ugly face of course.” Dean says, teasingly, making a funny face at him. It’s like they are back to where they were before, back before everything happened, but there’s something different, because things have changed. Things have changed and they might never be the same again, but that doesn't mean they can have moments like those from before. Though, things might get bad when John gets mad. It all depends on what Dean does when Sam tells him tonight.   
“You always were the smart one. You're really great at thinking of original insults.” Sam rolls his eyes, finishing off his beer and grabbing the chips from Dean’s hands, who just scoffs and kicks him right back. Both of their attentions turn back to the TV, watching intently as a father gets arrested. They stay silent for awhile, watching the show come to an end and the credits roll by.   
“Dean…” Sam begins to say, the rest of the words not making it out with the first. Dean looks over at him, clutching the beer in his hand.   
“Yeah?” Dean asks, turning him body to face his brother and setting his beer down. Sam takes a deep breath, preparing himself to have a fight.   
“We need to talk about Stanford, because… Well at first I just wanted to see if I was good enough to get in. Now, well, now that I have to opportunity to actually go. I just, I want to see where this takes me. You know? I want to see if I can do anything else with my life, you know, besides this. I don't want this, I want to… I want to have that white picket fence life. I know that may sound stupid. But that’s what I want.” He doesn't look up at Dean at any point during those words. There’s open silence after Sam say the last sentence.   
“If you want to go, go. I cant stop you. Ill be supportive, Ill be with you every step of the way. I just want you to know that John isn't going to feel the same way, he is going to be pissed.” Dean says, Sam looks up at him, tears brimming in his eyes.   
“Thank you, thank you Dean.”


End file.
